


See You Tomorrow

by lovelyliterati



Series: You Kill Me for the Better (Klance AU Month 2019) [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Barista Keith (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), College Student Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Klance AU Month, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, POV Keith (Voltron), Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), Student Lance (Voltron), Tired Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 18:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17647409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyliterati/pseuds/lovelyliterati
Summary: Klance AU Month Day 1 / Coffee Shop AU“Sure,” Keith says. “See you tomorrow.”He catches himself immediately and has to turn around so he can cringe. Tomorrow? See you tomorrow? That’s not even remotely close to what he would say to literally any customer. The closest would be “Come back soon,” or maybe “Thanks for coming in.”God, he really is tired.





	See You Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> I stayed up late writing this on the 31st and then discovered that I couldn't make an AO3 account until I got an invitation, so it's late but here it is! This was inspired by the waiter I had at a Mexican restaurant who said see you tomorrow to me. I love you, sir.

Keith is too tired for this. It’s ironic, he thinks, as he stands behind the register at the campus café. Exhausted at a coffee shop with zero caffeine in his system.

He can’t drink coffee – all it does is agitate him and make his pre-existing tempter ten times worse. He really just works here for the quiet ambiance. But on days like today, running on about three hours of sleep after spending the night working on a paper, he wishes coffee worked on him.

He leans over the counter, chin resting in the palm of his hand, and tries not to doze off. Why does a _college_ coffee shop open at 5 a.m., anyway? Approximately 0 college students are awake before 8 a.m. And more importantly, why is Keith always the one who has to open?

The bell on the door dings, and in walks a long-legged Hispanic boy and his friend, who looks like he’s built specifically to beat Keith up. Right, that’s why.

“I told you,” Long Legs says, looking back at his friend as the door shuts behind them, “I have to finish this paper before my 8 a.m.”

“But why do I have to be here?” Beefcake asks.

“For moral support,” he says. “Obviously.”

Keith stands up straight as the two near the counter, plastering the fakest smile on his face. “Hi,” he says, a little too monotone. “What can I get started for you guys?” 

“Wait,” Long Legs says, scratching his beardless chin. Keith tries to ignore how cute he finds him as he studies the menu, stepping aside for Beefcake. “Do you know what you want?” he asks him. “I can never decide.”

Even if he finds the guy cute, Keith can’t stop his eyelids from drooping. His exhaustion outweighs his attraction.

“Yeah,” Beefcake gives a soft smile, proving Keith’s assumption wrong. He may not actually beat him up any time soon. “Ah, just a small hot chocolate, please.”

Nope, definitely won’t beat him up. Maybe he’s actually a cupcake in beefcake form. 

“Alright,” Keith says putting the order into the register. He flicks his eyes back to Long Legs, who’s still scanning the menu, adorably biting his bottom lip. “Is this together or separate?”

“I gotchu buddy,” he slaps Cupcake on the back, grinning wide. 

Keith looks a beat too long at him, feeling himself blush as he distracts himself with, y’know, his job. “Name?” 

“Hunk.”

He scribbles it in sharpie, while Long Legs keeps studying the menu as if there’s more than seven options on it. For a second, Keith wonders if he would still find him attractive if he wasn’t so tired.

When he looks back up, Long Legs is right in front of him, so close he can see his freckles. Yes, well-rested him would definitely still find him attractive, even if the guy can’t make simple decisions.

“And for you?” Keith says, voice breaking. God, he better not have noticed that.

“Large Americano,” he says, and there it is: that damn smile again. “Gotta get through this day somehow.” 

“You usually take a nap after your 8 a.m.,” Hunk says.

Long Legs snaps his head back to look at him. “Not if I drink this Americano, I won’t.”

Keith grins, sharpie positioned over a large cup and ready to go. “And your name?”

“Lance,” he leans over, pointing at the cup. “Lancey Lance if you want to be cute about it.” 

“Got it,” Keith laughs, and he writes “Lancey Lance” if only because he can feel Lance’s eyes – which are blue, he’s noticed – on him. Lance seems satisfied with his choice, giving Keith another wide, fond smile. “That all?”

“Get me one of those cute ass muffins too,” he points to the display case, shoving his hands in his pockets to fish out his wallet. “A blueberry one.”

The payment exchange goes about as well as Keith expects it to. Lance gives him the money as perfectly as a cute boy could, and Keith has to stare into space to figure out the change situation. Then, he fumbles with the coins before they make it into Lance’s hands.

He has to take a breath and force himself to focus before filling Hunk’s cup with hot chocolate and brewing Lance’s Americano. And yet he still manages to spill while mid-yawn and burn his finger.

“So, here’s what I’m thinking,” he hears Lance say to Hunk while they wait. “If I don’t finish it, I tell my professor Veronica gave birth and I couldn’t get it done in time.”

“But Veronica’s gay.”

“So, he doesn’t know that!”

“Alright,” Keith says, bringing the drinks to the counter, somehow breathless. “One hot chocolate and one Americano. For Lance and Hunk.”

He really didn’t have to ask their names, did he? There’s literally no one else in the shop. W-why did he do that?

“Thanks, man,” Lance says, picking his up. 

“Sure,” Keith says. “See you tomorrow.”

He catches himself immediately and has to turn around so he can cringe. Tomorrow? See you tomorrow? That’s not even remotely close to what he would say to literally any customer. The closest would be “Come back soon,” or maybe “Thanks for coming in.”

God, he really is tired.

He pulls his hair back into a ponytail, wishing he could run and hide. Instead, he has to turn back around and pretend to clean while Cute Lance sits four feet away.

“And also,” Lance says to Hunk as they sit at a table in the back. “Lesbians can give birth, too.” 

He only fills another random customer’s order twice in the two hours that Lance and Hunk are there. The rest of the time, Keith wipes the same counter and appliances down several times, glancing Lance’s way every so often.

Hunk is lying his head down, asleep and drooling on the table while Lance clicks away at his keyboard. He has his bottom lip between his teeth again, focused.

Keith tries to determine what major Lance could be as he wipes down the counter for the eighth time, just based on his personality and the neon blue hoodie and gray sweatpants he’s wearing.

He’s narrowed it down to biology, English, and marketing by the time Lance puts his laptop away and approaches the counter. So basically, he’s gotten nowhere.

“Hey, can you throw this out for me?” Lance asks, sliding a cardboard cup sleeve toward Keith.

“U-uh,” Keith says, voice breaking awkwardly yet again. He points toward the garbage can near the door. “We have a—”

“ _Can you throw this out for me?_ ” He thinks he sees Lance flush, but he can’t be sure.

“—garbage can…Sure, I guess.”

Lance’s shoulders relax when Keith takes it, and he presses his lips into yet another cute smile, pleased with himself. He hikes his laptop bag over his shoulder and walks out the door, Hunk trailing behind him. 

Keith is about to toss the sleeve in the trash under the register when he notices Lance has written on it: _See you tomorrow, mullet ;)_

Flustered, he throws it away.

 

Keith makes sure to get an adequate amount of sleep that night, and he’s more nervous for his morning shift than he’d like to admit. The guy was probably just teasing him, making a joke out of his mistake, but he still spends 20 minutes fixing his hair as if Lance is actually going to come in.

And he still spends the entire first few hours in anxious anticipation, watching the door. By 8, his hopes dim. His shift ends in an hour – and he has class in two.

But then, at 8:37 a.m., the bell on the door jingles and in walks a familiar pair of long legs. Keith’s stomach does somersaults as Lance walks up to the counter. 

“Hi,” Keith says, barely audible as Lance smirks at him. The café is busy now, full of students getting caffeinated and attempting to finish assignments on time. He clears his throat and raises his voice a tad. “Another Americano?”

“Mmm,” Lance says, tapping his lips. It’s almost like he purposely directs Keith’s attention to them. He studies the menu yet again, but not as long this time. “Make it a cappuccino today.”

“A man with a range of tastes,” Keith says, taking a risk and writing Lancey Lance on the cup again. He wants to be cute about it, sort of.

“I like a lot of things,” Lance says, squinting at his choice of words. He hesitates, and it’s then that Keith thinks he might be flirting. “People, I mean. Like…girls…and boys. Anyone really.”

Keith blinks – he really is flirting. Either that, or just casually letting a random barista know his sexuality. 

“Good to know,” he says, letting the corner of his mouth lift in a crooked smile. He sets the cup down and leans on the counter, just a tad closer to Lance and his freckles and blue eyes. “Anything else?”

Lance clears his own throat. “Yeah, another one of those blueberry muffins. That was good as hell.”

The transaction goes a tad smoother this time, and Keith fumbles less with the coins. He still burns his hand making the cappuccino, but that’s only because he focuses too much on making it perfect.

He slides it across the counter toward Lance, who’s staring up at the ceiling, hands in the pockets of his army green jacket. 

“Thanks,” he says.

“Yup,” Keith says simply, ensuring that nothing embarrassing comes out of his mouth.

But then, Lance raises his eyebrow. “See you tomorrow?”

Keith chuckles. “See you tomorrow.”

Lance sits at a table by himself, sipping on his drink. He unwraps his muffin to take a bite, and by then, Keith is distracted by a rush of students coming in to order.

He’s just about to clock out when Lance comes up to the counter, same as yesterday, and slides a cardboard coffee sleeve toward him. This one has a lot more words on it, and his face is flushed before Keith says a word to him.

In fact, Keith doesn’t get a word out before Lance is practically bolting out the door.

He picks the sleeve up, reading it as he takes off his apron.

_I’m too impatient for this slow burn shit. Text me tomorrow. (Or today, I’m just trying to be cute.)_

Below Lance’s words is his number. 

Keith makes sure not to throw this one away.


End file.
